


The Red Henley

by Tudor_Rose



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Christmas, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Steve Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8240563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tudor_Rose/pseuds/Tudor_Rose
Summary: Bucky's still getting used to asking for things.





	

He sat in his room with his mind reeling over all the possibilities of how to put one request. He imagined standing in front of Steve, trying to imagine what his reaction would be. He tried to picture it in his head, what Steve would be doing or what his answer would be.

_If you ever want anything Buck, just ask._

That's what he said. It's what he said to him on multiple occasions when he was too nervous to speak his mind or to ask for what he wanted. He would never ask for anything; the idea of it was still to foreign to him. It made him uncomfortable. There were times he had tried to state a preference to something but every time he did he found that he couldn't form the words. He was used to orders. He was always told what to do and when to do it. He didn't have an opinion. His wants and feelings were irrelevant.

He'd been sitting in his room for over an hour, practicing and rehearsing how he was going to say this to Steve. It was only recently he had started calling Steve by his name instead of his handler. He had insisted time and time again that he wished for him to call him by his first name. It was something Bucky was still working on remembering to do.

Steve said he was his friend, that he didn't need to fear him. He told him he could tell him anything and he had said it in such a gentle voice that Bucky couldn't help but feel at ease then. His psychiatrist had suggested that he write down his feelings and wants. She had explained that it may take some time before he felt ready to express himself verbally.

He had tried to follow her advice but found that it was just as hard to put it down on paper as it was to say it. There had been times he had wrote down what he wanted to say and given it to Steve, standing nervously as he read it.There were also times he wished that Steve could just know what he wanted; that he could simply read his mind to save him the agonising task of having to actually ask for something.

Angrily scrunching up another piece of paper, he tossed it frustratedly into his trash bin.  
It was only a simple thing, though. Steve would either say yes or no. He wouldn't punish him; he promised him that. In HYDRA, he remembered being reprimanded or stuck when he accidentally stated his opinion.

A weapon has no emotion or feeling nor does it want.

That was what he had been taught and conditioned to believe. Despite Steve and his psychiatrist telling him otherwise, he still felt afraid to go against it. He was afraid of a lot of things, which was why he preferred to spend time in his room. Chuckling, he shook his head at the thought of calling anything his own. He couldn't remember ever having his own room before. When Steve had told him that the room was his, he didn't know how to react or what to say. When Steve had left him alone, he had gone into the room and sat, looking around the empty space. Steve had told him he could decorate it anyway he liked but he had no idea what he liked, so the room remained bare.

He was making progress as the room now had a large bed, beside his window the walls were painted cream, adorned with framed black and white photos and colourful show posters from the 1930’s-1940’s. On the other wall facing his door, there was a poster of a vintage Harley Davidson. The poster had been a gift from Steve for his birthday.

One of the earliest things he came to know about himself was that he loved bikes.  
Whenever Steve took him out he always stared in awe he seen one, only to be pulled on by an amused Steve.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up and left the room. He went into the room where Steve sat in his armchair, reading. Standing still, he waited. He knew that he could just go and get his attention, as Steve encouraged but some habits were hard to break. He was used to going into a room and waiting to be addressed. Steve also knew this was a behavioural trait Bucky still possessed.

“Hey Buck.” He smiled, taking off his glasses. Bucky smiled back, subconsciously fidgeting with his hands.

“Everything okay?” He asked. He knew Bucky came to him for a reason but there were times he would come to him and need to be coaxed into saying what he wanted as nerves tended to get the better of him.

Bucky nodded and took a deep breath. “Um, Steve? Remember….remember when you said that, uh…” he trailed off, losing his train of thought. He struggled to think of what he wanted to say, despite rehearsing it for over an hour in his room. He ran a hand through his messy hair, gripping it as he let out a frustrated groan.

“Take your time, buddy.” Steve said quietly as he waited patiently for Bucky to continue. He took a moment to compose himself before continuing, “that if I ever, y'know, wanted something?" He rubbed the back of his neck shyly, feeling the sweat under his palm.

“Yes?” Steve pressed gently.

Bucky looked down, shuffling his feet, not knowing how to continue. Was he meant to come out and just say what he wanted? The idea of it terrified him. Sensing his distress, Steve leaned forward and asked “is there something you want, pal?”

Feeling some of the tension ease, Bucky nodded. Steve put aside the book he was reading and stood. “Grab your coat,” he said watching happily as Bucky put two and two together and ran excitedly to his room to get his coat and shoes. He had no idea what Bucky wanted as he never wanted anything so he was curious as to what it was.

“Ready?” He asked once his friend emerged from his room, dressed for the weather outside. Bucky nodded, adjusting his scarf. “Then let's go,” he beamed, going out into the winter weather. As they walked down the street from their apartment, they saw the roads glisten with ice and light snow fall against the light of the street lamps. With only a week until Christmas, the stores stayed open late. As they walked further into the town, Bucky led the way, recalling from memory where it was he wanted to go.

When they stopped outside a small clothes store Bucky stared almost longingly at one of the male manakins in the window wearing a red Henley shirt with navy blue jeans. He looked to Steve, who understood what it was he wanted. They went into the store, both searching the racks of clothing for the shirt before Bucky approached Steve, holding a shirt his hands.

He gave it to Steve.

“This what you want, Buck?” Bucky nodded assuredly. That was enough for Steve, who took it to the till. Paying the fifteen dollars, he let the cashier pack it before giving it back to Bucky who took it hastily, holding it to his chest. Steve chuckled. Bucky didn't have much to call his own. Even the clothes he wore were Steve’s so when he did have something to call his, it was special to him.

“Merry Christmas, gentlemen.” The man bid, smiling at them as they left.


End file.
